The Jouney of a Sickle:Through Hogwarts and Beyond
by ArthurTwoSheds
Summary: Ever wondered what dirty dealings and other such activities happen within Hogwarts? Follow a sickle's journey through the hands of students! Please R&R! CHAP 3 UP!
1. The Beginning

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I do not own J.K. Rowling. I do not own Warner Brothers. I would like to own Harry Potter. I would like to "own" J.K. Rowling. I would like to own Warner Brothers. I would like to own a car._  
  
**FIVE reviews before I update again!**  
  
Chapter 1: The Beginning  
  
"That'll be fourteen sickles and seven knuts" Fred said with an air of authority.  
  
A mischievous looking girl with glaringly red hair counted out some bronze and silver coins and shoved them across the counter to him. "And you'd think you'd give your own sister a break."  
  
"Sorry Ginny, can't let these babies get away for free" he said gesturing to the new range of Skiving Snackboxes he had just sold which now included Chill Chews and Shivering Sours. "George and I worked ages on those sours."  
  
"You bet we did" George added as he came around from the back of the shop.  
  
"What do you need these for anyway?" Fred inquired from Ginny. "Obviously to skip out of classes, you know what fifth year is like."  
  
George and Fred shared a grimace. "Complete hell, here," George picked out a fake wand, "I'll toss this in for free, but make sure McGonagall picks it up" he added with a grin to beat the Cheshire cat's.  
  
"Thanks George. Anyway, I probably won't see you tonight or tomorrow before we leave for school with the hours you two have been working lately. So... not until Christmas, maybe."  
  
"Hey," Fred was finally counting the money Ginny had paid with," You gypped us a sickle." Ginny shook her head smiling vaguely. "Family doesn't account for anything with you to, does it. You're a regular Percy."  
  
Fred winced at the name. "Family is family," he said firmly, "now hand over that sickle."  
  
The sickle Ginny handed him was old and dirty from years of handling, but when it hit the late afternoon light filtering in through the greasy front window of Weasley's Wizarding Weazes, it gleamed as if it knew something no one else did. Fred dumped it unceremoniously in a cash box and looked at Ginny with mock seriousness. "Thanks for not cheating your admirable brothers out of much needed money"  
  
Ginny glared at her brother while trying to hide a smile. "It's just a sickle!"  
  
Thus begins the winding tale of the sickle... through Hogwarts and beyond.  
  
**Reviews welcome!**


	2. Dirty Dealings in the Leaky Cauldron

_Disclaimer: I a merely a meek little girl with no life and a GREAT FEAR OF LAWYERS... Please, I am not J.K. Rowling or any of her family or friends or weird stalker people. In no way am I at all related to Mrs. Rowling so PLEASE DON'T SUE ME... And all characters, events, blah blah blah belong to that lady._  
  
Chapter 2: Dirty Dealings in the Leaky Cauldron  
  
Later that evening, George calculated the shop's profits for the day while Fred attempted to clean up from a day of customers coming and going and making a mess all the way. One little wizard had "accidentally" let off one of their super-concentrated dung bombs around noon, but, according to George, it hadn't hurt business.  
  
"We did better than yesterday" George announced off-handedly as he put their spoils back into a cash box, "And every day in the past week."  
  
"Really?" Fred questioned curiously as he gave up on his cleaning attempts and peered down on George's scribbled calculations. "Well, good, because Mundungus has got a new batch of Pixie's wings and I invited him for a drink at the Leaky Cauldron in..." Fred checked his watch, "an hour. So, I'll need some money so I can get him plastered enough to get a decent price out of that scum. Remember those dragon scales he ripped us off on last time?" He held out his hand while George nodded and carefully sorted galleons, sickles and a few knuts and dropped them into his open hand. He made note of this exchange on a piece of parchment. "Thanks"  
  
"It's fine, you- we've earned it. Um..." He took a sniff of the putrid air, "need help cleaning?"  
  
"Please do."  
  
In the next three-quarter's of an hour, the twins managed to eradicate the horrible decaying stench from the shop air. At five 'til ten, Fred bade goodbye to George who would finish closing up shop while Fred discussed "business" with Mundungus.  
  
"Hello, Dung" Fred said as he took the seat opposite Mundungus at a small round table in the Leaky Cauldron.  
  
"Hi Fre-George... not, wait."  
  
"It's Fred, Dung" Fred corrected him.  
  
"Ah, right. Drinks on you tonight?" Fred let out a sigh, "Yes, but just tonight."  
  
"Excellent, where's Tom? I'm up for another round." He scanned the crowded pub for the bartender as Fred raised his eyebrows, "Another round? And about how many 'rounds' have you had already?"  
  
"About... three... or four. Maybe five"  
  
Fred gave another sigh, "Listen, Dung," He got down to business, "I'm only here for those Pixie wings you promised. George and I are testing out some new products and George reckons pixie wings may do the trick. I'm not exactly here to... chat." He finished as he glanced down at several empty bottles.  
  
At this, Mundungus eyed Fred carefully. "Yeah, I got 'em, but I want no less than thirty five galleons for 'em."  
  
Fred snorted. "And I'll give you fifteen."  
  
Mundungus thought hard." Twenty"  
  
Fred was in no mood for haggling tonight. He sighed for a third time, "Alright, twenty, now let's see them."  
  
Mundungus pulled out a smallish blue box from within the depths of his overcoat and pushed it across the table to its' middle. Fred placed some gold on top of it. Mundungus snatched the gold and Fred gently picked up the box and gently placed it into his jacket. "Right" Fred waved his hand to get Tom's attention. "Check please" he asked and Tom placed a small bit of parchment that was the bill on the table. Fled took a quick look at it; six drinks and a firewhiskey. He put the appropriate amount of money on the table and a tip of a sickle, well, _the_ sickle.  
  
Mundungus looked at Fred and the money on the table. "Wot? That's all?"  
  
Fred glanced at him. "Sod off." And he left with the box.  
  
Tom picked up the money and put the tip in his apron pocket. He looked at Mundungus, "You gonna buy anything else?"  
  
Mundungus grumbled a bit. "No"  
  
"Then get on then, we're busy."  
  
He grumbled a bit more before picking himself up and apparating out of the Leaky Cauldron with his signature 'pop.'  
  
And the sickle continued it's journey with Tom the innkeeper. 


	3. Change for the Nervous Child

_Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling, but... I don't want all that... I'd rather just... SING! (I don't own Monty Python either)_  
  
Chapter 3: Change for the Nervous Child  
  
Tom cleared away the empty glasses and headed back into the kitchen through two western-style swinging doors to drop them off for the cleaning crew to take care of. As he was pouring himself his own drink from the icebox the service bell sounded from the distant bar counter out front. Tom put his glass down and speed-walked towards the bar.  
  
"Hello" A young boy looked up at him.  
  
"Go away. Nobody will serve you here, you're too young. And don't tell me you just turned eighteen yesterday and everybody tells you, you look young for your age, because you'd be the ninth one today." Tom pointed to the exit.  
  
"No, sir" he mumbled, "I just need change for a galleon." The boy held out a gold coin. Tom nabbed it from his hand and examined it for faults proclaiming 'I'm a fake! Jinx the cheating jerk who gave me to you,' but found it valid. He rummaged through his pockets. He counted out seventeen sickles on the counter and shoved them towards the boy.  
  
"Thanks" the boy looked very anxious. "My gran's mad at me 'cause I forgot to get my books for transfiguration and Flourish and Blotts is closing in a few minutes and they've already locked away their cash box. That's why I need the change."  
  
Tom stared at the boy. "Get along then if that's all you need."  
  
The boy emptied the coins into his pocket and scuttled off to the entrance of Diagon Alley and disappeared behind the door.  
  
"A nervous child if I've even seen one." Tom muttered as he went back into the kitchens to finish up his drink.  
  
Neville scurried back into the dark Diagon Alley as the stores and shops around him closed their doors, put up signs and lights flickered out all around him. He managed to find his way back to Flourish and Blotts without getting lost. He heaved the heavy door open into the darkening book store, change clattering in his pocket.  
  
"Finally" His grandmother said from next to the store clerk in the back of the store, beside the counter. "Hurry up, eleven sickles is all I need. You keep the rest for your visits to Hogsmeade, but don't lose it."  
  
"Okay, gran" Neville counted out eleven sickles and handed them to his grandmother. The rest he held in his hand, rather than put them back in his pocket like a sensible child would do (which Neville is not).  
  
The nameless store clerk (who is not important to this story, guess who's still holding the sickle?) dropped the books onto Neville's outstretched arms unceremoniously and quickly retreated to the back storage room leaving Neville and his grandmother to leave the shop themselves.  
  
As soon as Neville stepped outside the door, he dropped a book... followed by the rest of the books and the left-over six sickles. A particularly heavy novel landed on his foot and while he was jumping up and down in pain most of the sickles, save two, were rolling out of sight and lodging themselves among various cobblestones.  
  
"Neville! You clumsy child! Pick up these books! We must get home in time for the late night knitting show on the Wizarding Wireless!" His grandmother yelled at him as he scrambled to collect his strew books.  
  
It wasn't until he was safely back home when he realized he'd dropped his Hogsmeade money in Diagon Alley.  
  
Back in the darkened alley, the sickle lay (nearly) forgotten, partially stuck in a wad of old gum on the street. 


End file.
